


Uninterrupted

by Mad_Maudlin



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Bath Sex, Bathtubs, First Time, M/M, Mutual Masturbation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-22
Updated: 2010-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-06 13:35:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mad_Maudlin/pseuds/Mad_Maudlin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A little postlude to my fic <a href="http://www.geocities.com/mekamorph/fanfic/stuck01.html">Stuck On You.</a> Harry and Ron pick up where they left off, in the Prefect's Bathroom.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Uninterrupted

Harry didn't really breathe easily from the moment they left the dormitory until the door of the prefect's bathroom thumped shut behind them. As hard as it had been to get around when they were magically connected, it was harder to fake that connection now that they were freeand they'd passed too many people in the corridor to dare part ways, even for a second. They didn't have to worry about it in the privacy of the bathroom, of course, but for Harry that just left him time to worry about a whole new set of things...

"Get the door, will you?" Ron asked. While Harry had been thinking, his friend had immediately set upon the vast bathtub, methodically opening and closing the jeweled taps with a look of intense concentration. He'd obviously been in here before, and knew what he liked.

Harry examined the door from this side and saw no obvious latch. "Er...how?"

"Just tap the handle twice with your wand and repeat the password."

Harry did so, but there was no obvious change in the state of the door to show whether or not it was locked. He hoped it wasif they got interrupted a third time, he had a feeling he'd scream. He turned back towards Ron without the slightest idea of what he was going to say, but a wall of steamy air hit his face and glazed his glasses with a silver mist. He took them off and wiped at the lenses with his sleeve, rather futilely, until he heard a tremendous splash.

Even half-blind, it was easy to see the red head floating in the midst of a circle of bubbles. "C'mon," Ron called, before diving underwater, giving Harry a blurry glimpse of pale buttocks. Harry nodded, mouth dry, and began to fumble with his shoelaces.

He didn't think he'd ever taken so long to undress, but it seemed like every button was too large for its hole. He'd just wrestled his belt open when he heard another splash, and suddenly felt something grab him from behind. He crashed into the soapy water and came up coughing. "You bastard."

Ron smirked at him and pushed his sodden hair out of his eyes. "Don't say that about my mum."

"I'm _soaked."_

"You were taking _forever,_ Harry..."

"My clothes are soaked."

Ron rolled his eyes. "Well, it's not like you're going to _need _them..."

The sneak attack had broken the strange tension between them; this brought it back in full force. Ron blushed at his own boldness, and Harry took a deep breath before wiggling out of his jeans and pants, and let them sink to the bottom of the tub.

"Er...what now?"

Ron moved forward a little, sort of bouncing on his feet in the shallower water. "We could, er, start withwith what we did earlier."

Harry had barely started to nod before Ron dropped his head down for a kiss. This was much easier the second time, as Harry knew now which way to tilt his head and where to put his hands. Except this time, he didn't grab day-old clothing, but slick soft skin, and _that_ was new and almost painfully exciting. Ron evidently felt the same way; Harry felt one hand skim up his back, and heard him moan a bit. Or maybe that was himself. He wasn't sure.

Then Ron took a half-step forward and Harry was quite sure of one thing in particular, which was that he had very little idea what he was doing. It was one thing to deal with another boy's penis in a strictly academic sense, or in passing, such as when they changed clothes or showered together; it had even been okay when they were rubbing against each other through their clothes upstairs. But now he had someone else's erection_Ron's_ erection, oh godbumping up against his stomach, and forget wanking or humping, he wasn't sure he could remember, if asked, how to _breathe._

Ron jumped almost as much as Harry did, though, and when their mouths pulled apart he looked just as startled. "Oh," he said, mouth hanging open just a little.

"Yeah." Harry swallowed, trying to control his breathing, because if he hyperventilated now it would be very, very bad. "Dd'you"

"Can I"

"if"

"would"

"touch_oh." _Because suddenly he felt Ron's fingers on him, very lightly, but it was the most amazing feeling he'd ever had. "Oh god."

Ron frowned. "Okay?" he asked, looking worried.

Harry swallowed again. "Brilliant."

"You like you're going to faint."

__

Maybe I will, he thought. "I'm fine," he said quickly. "Just" And then, before he could say something completely inane, he reached out and touched Ron's erection, just visible throught the soapy film on the water. Ron jumped again, and his face contorted almost comically. If Harry looked like that, he thought, then no wonder Ron was worried.

He curled his fingers around Ron's cock, trying to understand the different size and shape and weight. Ron suddenly grabbed Harry again and _squeezed,_ tight enough that Harry yelped. "Sorry," Ron hissed, and relaxed enough that he was just stroking, not trying to pull it off. Harry tried to return the favor, but his wrist banged against Ron's, and anyway he'd never done it before from this particular angle. Though, if the way Ron sighed was any indication, that didn't really matter. If the way Harry felt with Ron's fingers sliding down his length meant anything, nothing else mattered at all.

They shifted positions a bit and Harry tried to adjust his grip, and then it felt close to absolutely pefect. He was aware of his own erractic breathing, far away, and further still the bump and bang of their arms and the hot hard cock in his hand, but what was more important was Ron's hand, firm and rough around his own erection, and the small part of him that was trying so very hard not to come too soon, not yet, not first, oh shit, "Oh, shit..."

"...s'okay, Harry"

Too late. He let his head fall back and his bones dissolved, orgasm eating them up from the inside. He was astonished that his legs didn't buckle, but Ron was there, holding him up, just the same. When Harry opened his eyes again, Ron was looking into his face with a strange, soft expression. "All right?" he asked.

Harry nodded. "Yeah. Something wrong?"

Ron blinked and averted his eyes. "Nothing. It's justyou lookedwhen you ...Never mind. It's nothing." He shifted his weight a little nervously, and Harry suddenly remembered the erection he was loosely gripping under the surface of the water. He'd been so caught up in the intensity of his own orgasm that he'd stopped stroking Ron. This whole sex business was _complicated_.

Harry moved slightly and started moving his hand again, infinitely more self-conscious about it now that he wasn't distracted by his own pleasure. But Ron gave a throaty sigh and dropped his head onto Harry's shoulder, angling his hips forward into Harry's grip. Okay, then. Harry moved his hand a little faster and Ron started sort of rocking, little half-hearted thrusts, though by the way the muscles in his back were clenching and tightening Harry though perhaps his friend was holding himself back. One of Ron's hands had been splayed across Harry's back the whole time, and the other now clenched his hip under the surface, almost painfully. He could hear Ron's breathing getting faster and rougher, with little irregular groans interspersed, cool on his wet skin; Harry tightened his fingers a fraction, twisted his wrist a little as he pulled, and Ron suddenly twitched all over and sighed his name.

__

"Harry."

Quiet and ragged and drawn out into a barely-articulated groan; Harry's heart swelled with some undefinable feeling as he felt Ron shudder through his climax. After a moment, Ron lifted his head, eyes a little glazed, and smiled. "What?" he asked.

"What?"

"You're looking at me all funny."

"You..." Harry searched for words, but couldn't find any to explain the matter to himself, much less his friend. Lover. Whatever. "Never mind."

Ron's brows knit, but he just sagged against the side of the tub, pulling Harry with him. They stood there, side by side and barely touching, catching their breath for the longest time. What do you say after a joint wanking session, Harry wondered. Good job? Nice orgasm? _Thanks?_

Luckily Ron had a bit more sense; he shook his head for a moment, then started groping around the sides of the tub. "We should, you know, actually wash up while we're here."

"Yeah," Harry said. Was there a polite way to suggest they do this again later, though? As in almost immediately? He watched Ron find a tile that depressed when he pushed on it, and jumped when a large soap dish suddenly shot out of the side of the tub, displaying a variety of colored and scented soaps. Ron selected a white bar with delicate blue swirls and lathered it under the water, looking to be all business. Harry grabbed a round green cake and turned around, squinting at the sides of the room for a sponge or washcloth to use.

He nearly jumped when he felt Ron touch his shoulder, and again when the taller boy whispered softly in his ear. "Get your back?"


End file.
